(thank you to my ashface for this word. i have submitted it to dr. webster for the next addition of the dictionary.)
i tend to get all sorts of angsty before i head into surgery. however, can you blame me? this is my third 'cut open party' in 12 months. it's not so much the fact that they are taking out the last of my lady parts. that ship has sailed and sunk in the bermuda triangle. (creepy, right? that's probably where my other ovary was banished to. i figure all debunk organs go there.) ((speaking of organs, seriously, there isn't much else they can take out. for someone so void of guts i sure am ahem, bloated...)) it's more the whole, 'putting my life into doctor mcadorable pants hands.'
okay, so that's not even the issue. it just so happens my doctor is a very good looking fellow. however, i cannot call him doctor mcdreamy/mcsteamy/mcriphisclothesoff (mmk, that last one was just for kicks) because he is married with four adorable kids and he even has a hedgehog.
you know what i think is crazy? so, neurosurgeons have to go to school for at least, what, 17 plus years? sorry, patrick dempsy, you are hot with amazing hair, but there is no way in hell you would ever be a real neurosurgeon. my neurosurgeon didn't start practicing until his late thirties, and it's not like they just handed him some brain surgeries to, 'test his wings' on. seriously, he is in his late fifties and now in the prime of his career.
take that, grey's. i love you, but doctors are never a.) that effing hot or b.) that young.
see, i've been thinking about this for such a long time that i actually looked at all of doctor mcadorable's diploma's to see when he really started practicing. 2001...and he's in his later thirties.
proof that brain surgeons are at least seventy-three when they graduate.
we have cable. i'm sure this is why i weigh as much as i do, but i love me some, 'food network' and, 'discovery health.'
oh, discovery health.
this gives me access to such documentaries as, 'when anesethia goes wrong' or the one about people who are total fraud doctors and kill tons of people because they barely graduated with their degree from itt tech. of course there is a series about, 'botched surgeries' and a few shows about what surgeons just happen to leave in their patients.
i think i'm having an anxiety attack...
doctor mcadorable told me that recovery would be hard, and to be prepared. even though this surgery is much less invasive than a hysterectomy, said hysterectomy was only 4 months ago. i haven't healed all the way. my body is still in a 'pansy ass' state. and oh! the gas bubbles! they move up through your body and get stuck in your shoulders and then you pretty much just want to DIE. studly has to get me out of bed, make me put my hands in the air and force me to walk around so they diffuse...all the while i am screaming and bawling and attempting to breathe because yes, they hurt. that. bad.
one cool side effect? the belching. i'm determined to get one on camera. they are WILD. like, 'you'd think i was a 53 year old trucker who just drank a 23 pack of beer' wild. all tens for sure.
all cynicism aside, i admit i'm exhausted. i mean, i studied human biology in college and i understood it...so why in the hell is my body having such a hard time? it's quite simple...do what you are supposed to do.
i'm banging my head into the wall.
i am indeed grateful for doctor mcadorable. he is an amazing doctor, a talented surgeon, and he takes great care of me. the pain from this roguary is at an eleven these days, and it needs to be evicted.
get this, i'm even going to write an eviction notice on my belly. no, really. i've wanted to do this for the other surgeries, but i always backed out. not this time.
my letter will say...
'dear roguary. eff off.'
i'm so smooth with words, aren't i?